


Bring Her Home

by Dearly_Divided



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Bilbo Baggins, Bilbo doubts her worth, Bilbo isn't okay, Dwarven Ones | Soulmates, F/M, Female Bilbo Baggins, Female Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Fix-It, Fluff, Forgiveness, Gold Sickness (Tolkien), Grief/Mourning, Grieving dwarves, Hobbits Love Food, Hurt Bilbo Baggins, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Post BotFA, Thorin Is an Idiot, meddling gandalf - Freeform, misunderstandings galore, neither is thorin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-05-14 01:00:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14759592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dearly_Divided/pseuds/Dearly_Divided
Summary: When Gandalf had told them Bilbo Baggins had been killed by an Orc in the Battle of the Five Armies, twelve hearts broke and one shattered entirely.Months later and hundreds of miles away, entirely unaware of any of this, Bilbo Baggins was trying to pick up the pieces of her life and rebuild after being labelled a traitor and exiled from the Lonely Mountain by the Dwarf she loved.Nothings stays buried forever, and when Kili and Nori find Bilbo living in Rivendell, only one thing matters; bringing her home.





	1. Chapter One

Minas Tirith was truly a sight to behold, Kili could recognise that well enough. The great white stone gates, the towering spires and even the dead tree in the courtyard, all of it seemed like something out of a history book, a place of greatness, once upon a time. It was not a place he would have chosen to go, had he any other choice, however. In fact, beauty aside he found that he was rather unimpressed with the ‘Great city of Men’, and their treatment of Dwarves in particular. But it was irrelevant at the end of the day. He was not there to make friends, he was there to find a wizard, and a wizard he found.

 

“Gandalf.”

 

The wizard lifted his eyes from the ancient tome and regarded the Dwarf standing before him. Slowly but surely a smile broke across his face, “Kili,” he murmured in fond greeting before his brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here? Is everything alright? Is it Thorin?”

 

Kili stood still as he stared at the wizard. It had taken Kili months to get there. Months of grieving, suspicion, whispers, travelling and pain to get to that forsaken library.

 

He’d done it alone, the journey itself, at least. He’d left under the cover of darkness, against the wishes of his brother and without the knowledge of his King.

 

Part of him wanted to shout at the old man, to curse Gandalf and the very day they met. He was not a hateful being by nature, but he found that there was more than a little animosity that he held toward Gandalf. The other (more rational) part desperately needed answers and so instead of doing the former he simply asked a single question.

 

“Where is Bilbo Baggins?”

 

xxxxx

 

The Shire had always been her home. She loved it, everything about it, from the green rolling hills, to the flowers that bloomed in summer and the way that the early morning mists crept over the grass on autumn mornings. She loved Bag End and she loved being around other Hobbits (Sackville-Bagginses not withstanding). Life was quiet but it was simple and easy and comforting. The Shire was her home, she would always be welcome there by her family and friends, no matter how many adventures she went on or how ‘eccentric’ she became. There were days where Bilbo contemplated spending the rest of her life in her Hobbit hole and, to be honest, there were worse ways to live out her days.

 

But while she loved the Shire, her heart had grown restless. She wanted to travel, there was still so much of Middle Earth to explore. 

 

But more than that, she was not the same Hobbit that had left Bag End. She couldn’t just settle back into her old life as if she hadn’t faced down orcs and dragons and spiders and trolls and everything else that wanted to kill her. It wasn’t just her battle scars either, being in Hobbiton and especially Bag End reminded her too much of them and the pain they had caused. Every time she sat down at her table she saw them all sitting there, throwing her dishes around. Her mother’s glory box, the doilies, her own pantry, she could scarcely look at them without thinking of _them_ , and that only hurt. At night when she couldn’t sleep she could hear the echoing song they thought she couldn’t hear.

 

_Far over the misty mountains cold… To dungeons deep, and caverns old…_

 

Her home was haunted by the ghosts of those still alive and yet unreachable. She had loved and lost and been through too much pain for one Hobbit to bear. She would have given up everything to stay with them, with him.

 

They had banished her for her crimes, there was no going back to Erebor, but neither could she stay here. In her lovely, homely Hobbit hole she felt… out of place. She had changed and it had remained the same as the day she had left it.

 

And so, three months after the day she returned home, she packed her travelling pack and after gifting the deed to Bag End to her kind and beloved gardener, she walked away.

 

She would head to Rivendell first, Lord Elrond had extended her an open invitation to stay should she ever wish and she intended to take him up on that. From there… well, who knew? Maybe she would go to Lothlorien, or perhaps she might visit the realm of men and the Horse Lords of Rohan. Maybe… maybe she could visit the Blue mountains. Bofur, Bifur and Bombur had hailed from there, though, perhaps that was not a good idea after all. They might not be her Dwarves (not that they were hers anymore), but no doubt word had spread, and Bilbo had no desire to find out what might happen if they too decided she was a traitorous snake. It was probably for the best that she avoid Dwarves entirely for her own safety.

 

Perhaps in Rivendell she could find peace, for a little while at least.

 

xxxx

 

She had been reading one of the Elvish history books in her favourite courtyard when she heard the light but unmistakable footsteps of an Elf approaching. Placing the book down Bilbo turned to face the Elf, a warm smile on her face. “Arwen, how are you?” she greeted.

 

“My dearest Bilbo,” Arwen said, mirroring Bilbo’s smile (though she very much doubted that hers matched the ethereal beauty of Arwen’s) as she took Bilbo’s small hands in her own. “I am well.”

 

Living in Rivendell had been easy. It was such a beautiful place, and Elrond had been a most hospitable host. She had free reign of the realm and she had found that she enjoyed roaming and learning from the Elves. The friendship that had blossomed between herself and Arwen, Lord Elrond’s most beloved daughter, had been a true blessing.

 

“Would you like to join me? I was just about to go and have some lunch,” Bilbo said, standing from her seat.

 

Arwen’s smile wavered. “I would love to, but I am afraid my father wishes to see you, Bilbo. A Dwarf, well, two Dwarves arrived at Rivendell this morning. They were looking for you.”

 

Bilbo’s heart dropped as quickly as her smile did. Why were they here? Why now? Bilbo had left Erebor almost nine months ago. If they wanted her to pay for her crimes, surely they would have come for her before now? No, no, this wasn’t right, they couldn’t be here!

 

Her breathing sped up with her heartbeat and before she knew it she was hyperventilating.

 

Who had come for her? Thorin? Dwalin? The Dwarven guard? She couldn’t face them, not after everything. It was too soon!

 

Arwen placed her hands on either side of Bilbo’s face, her thumbs gently stroking her cheeks. “Bilbo, breathe with me. You are safe here, we will not allow them to either harm you or take you from here if you do not wish it. Bilbo, breathe. You do not have to see them, or speak to them, this is your home, for as long as you wish it and you are family to us. My father wants nothing more than to make sure you are alright. Please, do not fret, my dear Bilbo.”

 

With Arwen’s help she was able to calm down enough to allow Arwen to walk with her to meet with Elrond.

 

“Do you know, who, I mean, which of them…?” Bilbo’s head was spinning and she could barely form coherent sentences, but mercifully Arwen understood.

 

“No, Father was alerted by the guards, and the Dwarves were allowed to enter on the condition they spoke with him first.”

 

“They’re here?! Inside?!” Bilbo cried, clutching at Arwen’s sleeve like it was a lifeline. It might seem like an overreaction, and perhaps it was.

 

When she left Erebor she was a wreck. Heartbroken and injured had it not been for Gandalf, Legolas, Bard and Thranduil she doubted she would have made it home at all. Her wounds yet beneath her skin, they ate away at her. She had found a family and it had been ripped away from her so swiftly and cruelly. She didn’t remember much from her journey back to the Shire, but she remembered the fear that they would come for her, hunt her down for her betrayal, no matter how justified it was. No matter that it was done for love.

 

As days had turned into weeks, and Bilbo had remained undisturbed in the Shire that fear had slowly abated. It seemed that the Dwarves of Erebor were content with the knowledge that she had been punished enough, her death was unnecessary unless she returned. Yet now they were here, in Rivendell, which surely meant… _Breathe Bilbo, breathe._

 

“Yes, however until my father determines that they mean you nor us any harm they are being kept under a watchful eye.” Arwen stopped walking and gave Bilbo a heartfelt embrace which she returned tightly. “Bilbo, if you do not want to see them you don’t have to. We can send them away.”

 

Bilbo gulped nervously and allowed Arwen to once again lead her towards Lord Elrond’s private chambers.

 

When she had first met Elrond she had found herself speechless. He was everything she imagined Elves would be, tall, graceful, impossibly beautiful with eyes that looked as if they had seen all of history happen at once. Of course, when she had first met him he had been far more interested in Thorin’s company and of course Gandalf. She could not remember if she had spoken more than a few words to him their entire stay. On her way home, well, she was in very bad shape. Gandalf had brought her to Rivendell to be healed and from what he had relayed to her later, Elrond had taken on that duty by himself, spending days by her bedside. When she had woken up they talked, well, she talked and he listened, asking questions only when Bilbo seemed to lose herself in her thoughts. He wanted to know what had happened since she had snuck out of Rivendell with the company, and she told him everything.

 

He was impossibly kind and Bilbo owed him her life.

 

She trusted him and his judgement. He would not have allowed Dwarves to set foot in Rivendell if they meant her harm. But knowing that in her head and knowing it in her heart were two very different things. She remembered their faces when Thorin had nearly thrown her off the ramparts. They hated her, but not nearly as much as Thorin himself hated her.

 

Arwen pushed open the door and guided her inside, still holding her hand in a comforting manner.

 

“Lord Elrond, you wanted to speak with me?” she said with only the slightest hint of tremble in her voice.

 

Elrond looked down at her with kind and gentle eyes, seeing right through the brave face she had plastered on. “You have nothing to fear, Bilbo. From what I can see, and what they told me, the Dwarves are not here to hurt you, nor do they appear to wish you any ill-will. They were however, very insistent upon seeing you. They demanded it, in fact, shouting at myself and the guards until they were hoarse. They seemed to be under the impression that you were dead.”

 

Bilbo frowned, shaking her head, “I-I don’t understand, it doesn’t make sense, they… they hate me.”

 

“If they were acting they were very skilled indeed. They refuse to leave until they see you. I can, of course, have them forcibly removed but in truth I think the best course of action is for you to go and speak with them. Perhaps what they have to say is not what you expect.”

 

Bilbo nodded, whatever they wanted wasn’t important. They had travelled here to see her and she owed it to them to at least speak with them. It was not like they could strike her down in Rivendell. What more could they say to her that she hadn’t already said to herself?

 

“Who is it? Thorin?” she asked, biting her lip.

 

Elrond regarded her with sad eyes as he placed his hand on her shoulder. “No Bilbo, I’m sorry. Thorin remains in Erebor. His nephew, Kili came, with another from your company. Nori, I believe his name was.”

 

Kili and _Nori_? They were perhaps the last Dwarves she would have expected to come. Kili had always been so sweet, he had become one of her closest friends upon their journey. Her heart panged at the thought of his carefree smile and how much missed his hugs. At first she had struggled to imagine how he was even related to his Royal Broodiness Thorin Oakenshield but the more Thorin opened up to her, the more she saw who he truly was. Kili had received some of his best qualities from his uncle. It made her cherish him and his brother even more.

 

Nori on the other hand was a little more reserved, but she’d come to love his wicked sense of humour and he told the best stories. Of course, those stories usually involved thievery, spying and less than honest means of earning coins, but they were wonderful and Bilbo had loved them. Nori made her want to be more adventurous and brave. He had also taught her how to pick pockets, a trick she had delightedly tried on Thorin as often as she could.

 

She loved them both, but them being here, in Rivendell (an _ELVEN_ realm thank you very much!) together was perhaps the strangest thing of all.

 

And if Kili was here, where was Fili? She could scarcely remember a time on their journey where one hadn’t been following right behind the other.

 

Arwen stepped between Bilbo and her father, ignoring the pointed, disapproving look Elrond sent her way. “You do not have to go, Bilbo. We can send them away, your health, happiness and wellbeing is our only priority,” Arwen said.

 

And she didn’t. She could turn and walk away, pretend that they had never come to Rivendell. She would never see them, nor any of the company ever again.

 

Her stomach dropped at the thought. No, whether they screamed at her, hurled abuse, declared her treasonous or whatever other horrible things she imagined, walking away now would cause her more pain in the long run, she was sure of it.

 

She missed them all, every day. Thorin especially.

 

Besides, she was a Baggins, thank you very much, and no Baggins would turn their back and run away from something difficult. Also, the Took in her made her foolish and stubborn enough to charge into situations like this with no regard to personal safety and or any consequences of that may occur due to her own actions. Either way, she was going to see them.

 

Nodding her head and squaring her shoulders she looked to Elrond. “I’ll meet with them, alone, if you don’t mind. I have to see them; I owe them that much at least.”

 

Elrond nodded and Arwen rose. “We will be nearby if you need us,” she reminded Bilbo her blue eyes full of worry and concern.

 

“They were put in the Western rooms. Come, Bilbo, I think they have waited long enough. I fear if we leave them alone much longer they may resort to breaking furniture and starting fires.” Elrond’s eyes glimmered and there was a faint turning up of his lips. If Bilbo didn’t know better, she’d say that he was making a joke.

 

Knowing them as she did, however, it was also a very real possibility. “Yes, of course. Lead the way.”

 

Bilbo’s room was on the far Eastern side of Rivendell, she rarely if ever wandered to the Western side, which was probably why Elrond had chosen those quarters to house the angry Dwarves. Both Elrond and Arwen were silent on their journey and Bilbo’s head was too full of fear and happiness and questions and memories to even try and prompt conversation, and before she knew it the three of them were standing outside an otherwise unremarkable room with two Elven guards on the door.

 

_Breathe, Bilbo, breathe._

 

The Elves seemed to be waiting for her to make the first move. Her once friends were in that room.

 

She stared at the beautifully carved door before her and with shaking hands she reached for the doorknob and twisted it.

 

The image of Thorin screaming at her as he dangled her over the edge of the ramparts of Erebor flashed violently in her mind, momentarily taking her breath away.

 

_I’ll kill you myself, you thieving whore! Treacherous SNAKE!_

His eyes, the same eyes that had once gazed adoringly down at her with such tenderness and love, were rife with hatred and vitriol. In that moment she had almost wanted him to drop her, if only so she could never have to see the one she loved looking at her like she was _nothing_.

 

And then there was the blood, and the sharp, stabbing pain and the tears, so many tears and-

 

“Bilbo?” Elrond asked with a frown, pulling her back to the present moment.

 

“I’m fine. Sorry, I’m fine,” she said. _I can do this,_ she whispered to herself and before she or anyone else could say anything or do anything to stop her she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

 

Her heart was pounding against her chest as the two Dwarves, so familiar to her heart, turned to face her.

 

Kili, Nori.

 

For a moment time stood still.

 

Bilbo watched their faces morph from anger into surprise and finally--

 

“Bilbo, you’re alive! I knew it!” Kili laughed as he launched himself across the room, practically vaulting over the table and chairs set up in the centre, and wrapping her up in a tight bear hug.

 

“Bilbo Baggins, you’re a difficult one to track down,” Nori rumbled as he made his way over to her side. “I never thought I’d be so happy to see a Hobbit alive and in one piece.” And with that a wide, unbridled smile brightened up his face as he too wrapped his arms fiercely around Bilbo.

 

“I was never dead,” Bilbo murmured and then promptly burst into tears.

 

The two Dwarves only held her tighter as she cried.

 

xxxx

 

At some point Nori left the room mumbling about tea and biscuits, leaving Bilbo alone with Kili who seemed entirely unwilling to be more than an arms reach away from her. As it was he currently held her hand in his, leaning his shoulder against hers.

 

“Gandalf told us you were dead, that you died out on the battlefields. We mourned you Bilbo… it almost ruined us.”

 

Bilbo glanced up at him, her brown eyes red and puffy from all the tears she had shed. “I didn’t know. I thought you despised me. When I got back to the Shire part of me held out hope that there would be a letter one day, maybe not of forgiveness but even a note to let me know that you were all okay. When that letter didn’t come I resigned myself to the idea that you were happy I was gone.”

 

Kili turned to look sharply at her, “Happy? How could we be happy you were gone? You were family. You _are_ family.” He gave her hand a squeeze and smiled sadly at her, breaking her heart once more. “We won back Erebor and that victory meant next to nothing without you there to share it with.”

 

Before Bilbo could respond the door to the room opened once more and Nori bustled inside holding a tray with a teapot and, as promised, several biscuits on top.

 

“The lad’s right,” he said as he set the tray down before her and promptly began to pour the tea into her cup. “I’ve seen more cheer at funerals than in the halls of Erebor.”

 

Bilbo gratefully took the steaming cup when Nori offered it, taking a sip and feeling just a little bit better as she did so. “I missed you too. Some days I wanted to come running back to Erebor, most days, actually. I would have, if I didn’t think Thorin would have strung me from the battlements upon my return.”

 

Kili and Nori exchanged a look Bilbo couldn’t quite discern the meaning of.

 

“Bilbo, you have to know, Thorin wasn’t in his right mind when he did that… He never wanted to hurt you, he would rather have _died_ than hurt you.” Kili said, his wide honest eyes suspiciously shiny.

 

Of course he would say that, Kili idolised his uncle. “That’s very sweet of you to say,” she began, feeling her throat tighten uncomfortably. Her hands found themselves twisting the hem of her dress, and she found herself suddenly very interested “But madness or not he made himself perfectly clear, I am no friend to the Dwarves of Erebor.”

 

Kili once again pulled her into a tight hug, “You’re far more than a friend to us, Bilbo.”

 

“Aye,” Nori rumbled in agreement.

 

After that Bilbo didn’t want to talk about Erebor, or Thorin. So instead they talked of happier things, of Bilbo’s trip to Rivendell, and about the mischief certain Dwarves had been up to in her absence. It made her smile, just listening to them talk about anything and everything. For a moment, everything felt okay. She was happy.

 

“Why did you come looking for me?” Bilbo saw the frown starting to form on Kili’s face and hastened to clarify. “I’m glad you did, but you said that Gandalf said I was dead, why search for a dead Hobbit?”

 

Kili shrugged, “Because I never believed him. There was no grave, no memorial, no nothing. Gandalf said you were dead and everyone just believed him and then he disappeared and then we were left alone to grieve. I refused. So once the dust had settled I started searching for rumours, hints and whispers, anything that might lead me to you.”

 

“Which is where I came in,” Nori added.

 

“For months we had nothing. Bard wouldn’t say anything, if he had any information at all. I couldn’t expect any sort of help from the Elves, though Tauriel tried to find out if you had passed through.”

 

Bilbo didn’t miss the way his eyes lit up and his face softened when he spoke of the lovely elf. She was glad that they had each other, truly. Kili deserved someone who thought the world of him.

 

“What changed?” she asked.

 

“Rangers. They were overheard talking about a Wizard and a Halfling they’d seen on their last tour heading west. It wasn’t too hard to figure out it was you, unless Gandalf had made a habit of absconding with Hobbits.” There was a surprising bitterness to his voice that Bilbo wasn’t used to, but Gandalf wasn’t her favourite person at that moment either, so she let it slide. “I left that night, figured that you would have gone back to the Shire,” Kili said.

 

“And I followed to make sure he didn’t get himself killed on the road, not that he realised for most of the trip” Nori added, a wicked smirk on his face. Kili rolled his eyes and shoved him in response.

 

“By the time I got there you had left, and the Hobbit living in Bag-End didn’t seem too pleased to see me-“

 

“And by that he means that he was chased off with a pair of gardening shears,” Nori interjected, practically crying with laughter at Kili’s expense. Kili gave him a withering glare in response, which only made Nori laugh harder. The thought of Hamfast Gamgee chasing Kili away did kind of make her want to giggle, and she was more than a little touched that he still held that kind of loyalty to her. She had made the right decision in that at least.

 

However, she did feel a bit guilty for Kili, and judging from the way his fists were clenched and the look of murder on his face he was only moments away from launching himself across the table and throttling Nori.

 

Reassuringly she squeezed his hand and nudged his shoulder with hers. “So how did you get from Hobbiton to here?” she asked when the anger melted away.

 

“Well, no one in the Shire would tell me where you’d run off to, but the men in Bree were a talkative bunch. Gandalf had been by a few weeks before.” Bilbo nodded, Gandalf had come by to visit her only a few days before she had left. Perhaps he’d sensed her restlessness, or maybe it had just been coincidence, but for whatever reason he had shown up on her doorstep for afternoon tea out of the blue. “They said he was heading south to Gondor, so I went south to find him.”

 

Bilbo’s jaw dropped. “To Gondor? You went to Gondor?!” She couldn’t decide if she was more surprised at the thought of Kili wandering around Gondor looking for Gandalf or at the amount of jealousy she felt that she hadn’t been there with him.

 

Kili, mind reader that he was, smirked, “Yep, it was awful, I did not enjoy it, and I left as soon as I possibly could and came to find you here. I’ll take you there one day, if you’d like to go.”

 

Bilbo was floored. A trip like that would have taken weeks, if not months, and yet he had made it, they both had, on nothing but the word of gossipy Rangers. Once again she felt the tears unwittingly well up in her eyes and she thanked her lucky stars that even after all she had done, she still had their love.

 

“I’m really glad you’re both here,” she said, throwing her arms around the both of them.

 

After that the conversation turned to lighter and happier things. Eventually the sun sunk into the horizon and Bilbo’s stomach began to rumble.

 

“Best get you fed, if memory serves me right a hungry Hobbit bodes well for no one,” Nori chuckled.

 

Bilbo smiled fondly at him as they walked back into the open corridors of Rivendell, “I am rather peckish. Will you stay tonight, please? I’m sure Lord Elrond won’t mind.”

 

Nori snorted, attempting to pass it off as a cough when Bilbo elbowed him in the ribs none too gently. “I suppose we could suffer through one rabbit food dinner for your sake.”

 

“Oh, how generous of you.” Bilbo deadpanned, fighting back a smirk of her own.

 

Nori winked at her, but the mirth on his face died a little and he frowned. “But we do need to leave in the morning. It’s a long journey home, and we’ve been gone too long as it is.”

 

Bilbo nodded, of course she hadn’t been expecting them to stay forever, and she would cherish every moment with them that she could.

 

“Unless of course you want to come back with us?” Kili offered, a hopeful grin upon his face.

 

Bilbo sighed deeply and a little crease appeared between her eyebrows as she frowned. “You and I both know I can’t go back to Erebor, as much as I might want to.”

 

“But-“

 

Bilbo spied Arwen sitting nearby, a book in hand. “Sorry, Kili, can you give me a moment? I’ll be right back,” she said, darting away before he even had a chance to reply.

 

Kili sighed dejectedly, “She still thinks they hate her.  She’ll never come home at this point!”

 

“No, she thinks that Thorin hates her, and that because of that the others will too. If Thorin doesn’t lock us both up upon our return, we will think of something. We’ll get her back, don’t you worry.”

 

Nori watched for a moment as their burglar embraced the dark haired Elf, the two whispering quietly amongst themselves. He found that he was pleased to see she had friends here, even if they were Elves. The thought of Bilbo entirely on her own against the world made his heart sick. But, he supposed, that was the kind of Hobbit Bilbo was, she could scarcely walk into a room without endearing herself to someone or other. It wasn’t just any Hobbit that could fit in amongst thirteen Dwarves and melt the iron heart of their king.

 

“So I guess we have to tell him, then?” Kili said, keeping his eyes on Bilbo and the pretty Elf as they chatted away.

 

“Scared?”

 

“Aren’t you?”

 

Nori deliberated for a moment before he spoke. “Absolutely. Which is why that’ll be your job.”

 

As far as Thorin Oakenshield knew, Bilbo Baggins died on Erebor’s doorstep, just out of his reach. Finding out she was alive, and that he had been deceived, was not going to be easy, nor would it be pretty.


	2. Chapter Two

“You steal away like a thief in the middle of the night, without telling me, or anyone else for that matter. Even Fili could not tell me where you had run off to! And then I find my spymaster had run off after you! We have not heard a word from either you in weeks! Where, pray tell, _have you been_?!”

 

Kili gulped. He had expected that Thorin would be angry, but he had somehow underestimated the sheer fury that was emanating from his uncle as he glared down at him from his throne. It wasn’t just the rage either, beneath the anger Kili saw the signs. The bloodshot eyes with bags underneath, the pale skin that seemed to hang from his gaunt face. He looked thinner, tired, and Kili wondered whether Thorin had been looking after himself in his absence. He made a quick mental note to check in with Fili and his mother about it.

 

Plastering a wide, fake jovial smile on his face Kili began to speak. “Well, uh, it’s funny you should ask, because-“

 

“Where. Have. You. Been?!” Thorin enunciated each word through clenched teeth, and Kili could see the veins in his neck literally throbbing as his hands clenched the armrests of the throne. He hadn’t seen Thorin this angry since he and Fili had almost set themselves (and the room) on fire accidentally when he was thirty-two.

 

Of course, what he had to say next wasn’t going to make it any better. “Bilbo’s alive. I left to find her, and I did. She’s in Rivendell with the Elves.”

 

Thorin froze and Kili could have sworn that the temperature in the room dropped by at least three degrees.

 

“Bilbo is dead,” Thorin gasped, as if he had to pull the words from the very depths of the mountain itself to speak them.  There was pain in his eyes. So much pain that it hurt Kili to see. He had been with Thorin when Gandalf had lied to them, he’d watched as his uncle withdrew in grief and agony. He never spoke of it, at least not to Kili, but Kili could see how life without Bilbo tore him apart every moment of every day.

 

“No, she’s not.”

 

Subconsciously one of Thorin’s hands made its way to his chain around his neck, the chain that held a simple ring crafted from iron. It was a ring he had intended to give to Bilbo, the first gift of many. He never had the chance, and he kept it as a reminder that her death was his fault, and that he deserved to suffer for it, or at least, that was what his mother had suspected. Personally, he thought Thorin wore it because he had nothing else of Bilbo’s to keep, but as Thorin never spoke of it, they never truly knew either way. Kili understood, to an extent. Dwarves that were blessed by Mahal were given a soul mate, their One. Mahal did not make mistakes, nor did he give second chances. Dwarves who lost their One lived the rest of their lives alone, carrying a kind of grief so deep it became a part of who they were. Balin had lost his One at an early age, and Thorin had told Kili and his brother about the way it had changed the carefree, gentle Dwarf. Was it really a blessing, he had wondered, or a curse?

                                                                

“Gandalf-“ Thorin began, but Kili cut him off before he could utter another word.

 

“Gandalf lied! He smuggled Bilbo back to the Shire after telling us she was dead. I promise you, Bilbo Baggins is alive, and we need to bring her home.”

 

Thorin gaped at him, looking like a man whose entire world had been ripped out from under him. “She… she can’t be. Why would she not come back to me?” He spoke the words so softly Kili barely heard them at all.

 

Kili opened his mouth, and for perhaps the first time in his life, he thought better and awkwardly snapped it shut. Thorin didn’t need an answer, he wasn’t looking for one. They both knew why Bilbo Baggins hadn’t returned to Erebor.

 

“Please Kili, leave,” Thorin sighed, his voice small and defeated as he bowed his head, looking like a broken man.

 

With no words of comfort to give, actually, with no words at all and feeling woefully inadequate Kili left.

 

He had to find his brother.

 

And together, they would go to the one Dwarf capable of helping Thorin right now; their mother.

 

Dis listened, not saying a word, as Kili retold his tale, but he could tell by the slight quirking of his mother’s brow that she wasn’t happy. However, it was the way that her lips pursed that informed him that she had bypassed ‘not happy’ and was in fact, furious.

 

But, she listened, and when Kili was done she stood, whacked him once over the head and then crushed him in a tight hug.

 

“You leave like that without telling me again and I will drag you back and murder you myself,” she said, pulling back to give him a hard stare.

 

“Understood,” Kili stuttered while Fili barely suppressed laughter in the corner. When Dis shot a cold look his way however, the smirk on his face quickly disappeared.

 

“That applies to you too. I believe I told you to _watch_ him, not let him run off in the dead of night! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a brother to check on.”

 

And with that she stalked from the room.

 

xxx

 

Thorin was sitting hunched over on his bed when he heard the unmistakable sounds of his chamber door being thrown unceremoniously open by Dis. He would recognise her furious stomping anywhere.

 

“Thorin!”

 

“Yes, Dis?” he asked tiredly, barely bothering to raise his eyes to look at her approaching. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the simple ring. Bilbo’s ring. The ring he was supposed to give her. The ring she was supposed to wear until the day she died. He should have given it to her.

 

Dis harrumphed at his lack of attention as she strode towards him, “You absolutely cannot leave to go chasing some Hobbit lass, no matter how pretty she may be! You have duties! A kingdom to rebuild and subjects to rule! And… and… things that need to be… done…” she trailed off, staring at the scene before her with confusion. “Why aren’t you packing?”

 

Thorin finally raised his eyes to meet hers, and Dis almost wept at the sight of his tear stained face. “And why would I need to pack? Where am I to go?” His words would have been biting had they been said with an ounce of emotion, but even that was lacking.

 

Dis frowned and immediately sat down beside Thorin, grabbing one of her hands in his and squeezing it, like he had always done to comfort her when she was a child. “I had assumed you were preparing to leave Erebor to find Bilbo.”

 

Thorin snorted and Dis flinched at the harshness of the action. “Why? Why bother? You said it yourself, I cannot leave, I have too many responsibilities. And what good would it do? She hates me, Dis, and rightly so. She deserves a life of peace, unburdened by the horrors I brought upon her. She cannot love me, not after what I did.”

 

Dis sighed and leaned against his side. “You are an idiot. Of course you have to go and find her and speak with her. I said what I said so that when you inevitably pull your head out from your behind I can tell the Dwarven council that I begged and pleaded with you not to go, but alas, you would not be swayed! Not because I think you should actually stay!”

 

Thorin growled, pulling his hand from Dis’s grip. “It makes no difference, Dis! She deserves more than me! All I can ever give her is-“

 

Dis cut him off abruptly, “Oh stop with the dramatics! Let’s not kid ourselves, big brother! Stop lying to yourself. You are scared! Frightened like a child! From all accounts I have heard Bilbo Baggins is a wonderful Hobbit who loved you and the company deeply. She does not seem the vengeful type, nor does she seem to be the type to hold grudges. She saved this city, and she saved your life, and the lives of my sons! At the very least she deserves an apology, you owe her that much at least!”

 

“You don’t understand. You weren’t there! Bilbo Baggins wants _nothing_ to do with me, and for good reason!”

 

Dis pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath, fighting the will to reach over and smack some sense into her brother. “Do you love her, Thorin?”  


Thorin snapped around to glare at her, and it was the most emotion she had seen in him since she had entered the room. “How could you ask such a question?! Of course I love her.”

 

“She is your One?” Dis probed, a little gentler.

 

“You know that she is,” Thorin snapped, causing Dis to roll her eyes.

 

“I never took you for a fool, Thorin,” she said, thoughtfully stroking her beard.

 

“A fool? Did you come here just to insult me, Dis?” he spat.

 

“Not every Dwarrow is blessed with a One. Not every Dwarrow gets to grow old with their One either. You have just found out that the Hobbit you love, the creature Mahal himself blessed you with, is alive and well and you turn your back on her? You would spit in the face of Mahal by rejecting that blessing?”

 

“I am not rejecting Mahal!”

 

“Wonderful!” Dis said, clapping her hands together, “Do you need a hand packing?”

 

Thorin sent her a withering glare, “I am not going! She knows where I am, if Bilbo wanted to come and see me, she would have.”

 

And there was the truth. Thorin had thought she was dead; Bilbo had known that Thorin was alive, and she still had not returned. Dis felt her heart soften at the wounded look on her brother’s face. He was in pain, he had been for months, and Dis hadn’t done enough to help him. “And maybe Bilbo thinks the same. You owe her and you owe yourself.”

 

“Dis, please.”

 

“No, Thorin. Do you remember when we were young and Balin met Nai?” she asked.

 

Thorin sighed, closing his eyes in defeat, but Dis wasn’t finished just yet.

 

“What do you think he would give to have her back? Even for a moment, even if she hated him?”

 

The question hung in the air, but both Thorin and Dis knew the answer.

 

“You need to go to her, apologise, tell her that you love her, then you get on your knees and you beg, grovel and plead for her to come back here with you. You both deserve happiness, so go and make it happen.”

 

“Fine! I will go, if only to stop your pestering,” he grumbled, but they both knew the truth behind the statement.

 

“Oh but Thorin you can’t. Think of your subjects. Your responsibilities, what will we do without you?” Dis said in a very unconvincing, deadpan manner, her own green eyes sparkling with mischief.

 

“Dis, can you bring Nori for me?”

 

Dis paused, and a little crease appeared between her brows as they furrowed in confusion, but after a moment she nodded, and then she was gone, leaving Thorin to his packing.

 

Little over ten minutes later, Nori appeared at his doorstep.

 

“Thorin,” he acknowledged, bowing his head.

 

Thorin regarded him silently for a moment. “How long have you known?”

 

Nori seemed to be expecting the question, because he did not look startled by it. “About Bilbo being alive? Conclusively? Since we arrived at Rivendell. However, some of us never truly believed that she was dead. Some of us refused to believe it, and some of us came to you and begged for you to search for her, only for you to tell us it was folly and forbade us from speaking of her again. I understand you are upset with us, but it is not our fault you tried to forget she ever existed.”

 

What was the point in trying to correct him? Thorin could no more forget Bilbo then he could force himself to grow a second head, nor did he ever want to. But the constant reminders of his own failings from his friends and family were not something he appreciated. Still, it didn’t really matter what his intentions were anymore. He did not invite Nori here to attack him. Bilbo was alive, and Nori had spoken with her.

 

“How was she? Were the Elves treating her properly? Was she healthy? Content?”

 

Nori smiled softly, “Bilbo is loved in Rivendell, there is no other reason why they tried so hard to keep us out. She has friends, an Elf maiden in particular, Lord Elrond’s only daughter.” Nori paused, clearing his throat before continuing, “She seemed content, mostly healthy, though a little thinner than she should be, in my opinion.”

 

Thorin sensed the hesitation in Nori’s voice and frowned, “Mostly healthy? What aren’t you telling me?”

 

Nori had always been good at not being seen. He’d always been good at hearing things and seeing things that he shouldn’t. It simply made sense for him to utilise those talents to make his way in the world, and it was what Thorin had initially employed him for. If Nori had seen or heard something bad, then Thorin had a right to know.

 

That didn’t make it any easier to tell him, however.

 

“Bilbo was wounded when she fled the battle with Gandalf. On her way back to the Shire she was healed at Rivendell by the Elves.”

 

Thorin’s breath caught at the thought of Bilbo hurt, but of course he shouldn’t have been surprised, most of the company had been hurt in some manner or other during the battle, it was a miracle that they had all made it out alive. Thorin glanced back to Nori and found him staring uncomfortably back at him, and slowly but surely a sense of dread began to pool in his stomach.

 

“There is more?”

 

Nori nodded, “Bilbo took an arrow to the shoulder, a painful injury to be sure, but not something that required Elvish healing. A wound like that, Gandalf would have been able to heal himself in a moment. Whatever happened to Bilbo happened after she left the battle and it nearly cost her her life.”

 

“What are you saying? She was attacked on the road?”

 

Nori shook his head. “The Elves we met at Rivendell were not pleased to see us. It was more than mere Elven animosity, and I truly believe that if Elrond had not been there things would have escalated quickly. They hated us, Thorin, and they were fiercely protective of Bilbo. The ones they assigned to guard us while we waited for Bilbo were talkative when they thought we weren’t listening. I overheard one question whether… whether it was one of us that made Bilbo pregnant.”

 

Time stood still as Thorin’s world came crashing down around him for the second time that day.

 

“Pregnant? She… Bilbo was… pregnant?” he asked in a horrified whisper.

 

“Aye. But there were no furry footed little Dwarflings running around Rivendell. No one in Hobbiton spoke of a son or a daughter. I believe Bilbo had a miscarriage, and I think it almost killed her. She was wounded on our journey Thorin, but I think it’s the wounds underneath, the wounds we can’t see that are hurting her the most.”

 

Thorin fell to the floor as an agonised howl tore from his lips.

 

_“I don’t want to leave,” Bilbo murmured against his bare skin, lying ensnared in his arms, head resting against his chest._

_“Laketown?” he asked quizzically, gazing at the rather dilapidated room that currently housed them. It was perhaps the nicest in the house, and somehow even that wasn’t saying much._

_Bilbo shook her head, her curls bouncing softly with the movement. “You. Safety. Us. We leave here to go to a mountain where a dragon awaits us, and who knows what else. Even if Smaug is dead and everything turns out fine, then what? I’m a Hobbit, Thorin. You’re a King. Your people will not want me, they will not accept a Dwarf, especially not their king, taking a Hobbit lover.”_

_Thorin frowned and with a gentleness Bilbo had only recently realised he possessed he reached out and lifted her chin to meet his eyes. He loved her eyes, those knowing, warm honey brown eyes of hers. “Your place is by my side. I made you a promise Bilbo Baggins, a promise that I intended to court you, to marry you. What makes you think that has changed?”_

_Bilbo’s cheeks turned pink and she dropped her gaze. “I thought that… once you had your home back, your throne, your treasure and your people… once you were safe and away from the danger you might change your mind… realise that I am not Queenly material and that whatever promises you had made to me were made in the heat of an adventure, when any moment might have been our last.”_

_“Bilbo Baggins, I love you. I love you now, I loved you when you almost got us all killed with those trolls, and I will love you until the day time stops. Nothing can change that. You are mine and I am yours.” He smirked and deftly flipped the two of them over so that she was suddenly beneath him. “Shall I prove to you how far my devotion goes, my Queen?”_

_Bilbo’s laughter bubbled up but before she could reply Thorin had captured her lips in a fierce kiss._

 

He was a fool to let her go. He was an even greater fool to not fight for her return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! You guys have blown me away the response to this, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as well! Let me know with some kudos or a comment if you did! Thanks :)


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... I really did intend for this to be posted a looooong time ago, but things got kind of crazy. Anyway, better late than never right? Right, guys?? Hope you enjoy!

Bilbo had received the letter a few weeks ago. It was short, two sentences in total.

 

_Thorin left last night. He is heading for Rivendell._

_\- Nori_

 

That was it. Nothing else. No mention of his intentions or his mood, no warnings to prepare for the worst or anything like that. Simply that Thorin had left Erebor and was travelling to Rivendell.

 

Bilbo wasn’t stupid, she hadn’t expected that Kili and Nori would keep her existence from Thorin a secret, nor would she have expected them to have. Their loyalty was to their King, it always had been, she didn't resent them for that. 

 

She just thought that Thorin wouldn’t care one way or the other. She’d told the pair that she had no intention of travelling anywhere near the Lonely Mountains, she’d stay as far away from Erebor as she could. She had hoped (naively, apparently) that that would be enough to make Thorin happy.

 

He was coming here to see her, and that utterly terrified her.

 

Was he alone? Travelling with the others? Did he just want to speak, or would he demand reparations? Maybe he wanted the Mithril he has gifted her back, though her heart panged at the thought of giving that back. It was beautiful, a work of art most definitely, but it was the only thing she had left of him, the only physical reminder she had that, once upon a time, she was loved by a Dwarven King.

 

“He cannot cross into our lands without our permission, Bilbo. You are safe here,” Arwen had reminded her when she had first received the note. She had stayed by Bilbo’s side when she had gone into a panic attack, holding her and comforting her.

 

Bilbo had eventually calmed down, but with every passing day she felt the bundle of nerves in her stomach grow.

 

“You were worried about the two younger Dwarves, Kili and Nori, were you not?” Arwen had probed one afternoon over tea and biscuits.

 

Bilbo sighed, “Yes, but that was different. With Thorin it’s… more personal.”

 

“Because you loved him?”

 

Bilbo gave Arwen a look, “Because he thinks I betrayed him. And maybe he’s right.” _And he broke my heart_ , but she didn’t speak the last part. Arwen knew Bilbo’s pain.

 

She took a delicate sip of her tea, mulling Bilbo’s words over before she spoke. “I would not be so quick to presume his feelings before speaking to him. You may find yourself surprised.”

 

“I thought you didn’t like the Dwarves,” Bilbo murmured.

 

“I didn’t. I saw the pain they caused you, why would I want you to be subjected to more after everything you had already been through? Then they arrived. Don’t think I haven’t seen the changes in you already, my dear Bilbo. You have missed them, and you are happier knowing they love you as they always have.” She gently placed her empty cup back on her saucer and took Bilbo’s hand in hers. “But enough about that, come, I want to show you the gardens, they have finally started to bloom!” And off they went, Arwen leading Bilbo by the hand, grinning with excitement.

 

Bilbo had started to notice that whenever her nervousness came to light, Arwen, Elrond and the Elves always seemed to find something urgent that Bilbo needed to do, whether it be assisting the Elves in the kitchen making all sorts of treats, helping Arwen collect berries from the woods or telling the histories of Hobbits to Elrond in the library. She didn’t mind in truth, at the very least it made her feel useful, that she was earning her keep.

 

But being busy didn’t stop the fear and nerves forever.

 

Nor did they stop the flutter in her heart at the thought of seeing him again.

 

She still vividly remembered the first time Thorin had kissed her, the way her head had spun and the smug smirk on his face as he’d pulled away. No one had ever kissed her like _that_ before.

 

No one had ever made her _feel_ like that before, either.

 

In the early days of her return home, she questioned herself relentlessly. Would things have been different had she kept the Arkenstone hidden? Was there any other way to her saved her boys and keep Erebor safe? Had she made the right decision, walking out her front door?

 

Even after all the pain of loss and heartbreak, Bilbo couldn’t find it in herself to regret any of it. Even when she was scared for her life, fleeing orcs and spiders and monsters, she had never felt happier than when she was with him. Those stolen moments, the kisses and the touches, the sweet words whispered when they had a moment alone, she would never have wanted to give those up.

 

With each passing day Bilbo became more nervous.

 

Until finally, one late spring evening, he arrived.

 

Bilbo would have liked to say that she sensed that he was near, but in truth the first indication that Bilbo had that Thorin Oakenshield, King of Erebor, had arrived at Rivendell was the sound of him yelling.

 

Even as her heart, the traitorous thing, skipped a beat, she couldn’t help but smile.

 

It seemed that some things never changed.

 

“Why won’t you let me enter?! Where is Lord Elrond?!”

 

She crept closer, keeping to the shadows.

 

“You cannot enter Rivendell without Lord Elrond’s permission. As Lord Elrond is currently unavailable, as is the Lady Arwen, we cannot permit you entrance.”

 

Thorin growled, a low throaty sound that sent shivers down Bilbo’s spine. “Well, why don’t you go and fetch him?”

 

The Elf huffed, “As I said, Lord Elrond is unavailable. You can either wait for his Lordship, or leave.” The distinct disapproval that dripped from his tone suggested exactly which option he preferred Thorin take.

 

Bilbo couldn’t quite see him from her position in the twilight shadows of the gate, but if she moved any closer, he would see her.

 

“I have waited long enough!” Thorin roared. “I know Bilbo is here, you will not keep her from me!”

 

Bilbo’s breath caught in her chest at the sound of her name leaving his lips.

 

It was silly really, but a very tiny part of her had irrationally hoped that perhaps Thorin’s visit to Rivendell might not have totally been about her. Perhaps he merely wanted to establish a trade route or some other kingly thing.

 

But no. He was absolutely there for her and her alone.

 

Wonderful.

 

She was tired of hiding. If Thorin wanted to speak with her, so be it. She was a Baggins, not some cowardly Boffin!

 

She took one moment to steel herself, and then, head held high, Bilbo Baggins stepped into the light.

 

Both Thorin and the guard spun at her sudden appearance, but for now her attention was focused solely on the Elf.

 

“Let him in, please. The King of Erebor should not be kept waiting, it is not polite,” she said with only the barest hint of a waver in her voice. She could feel Thorin’s eyes boring

holes into her back, but she couldn’t look at him, not yet.

 

The guard looked helplessly at her, before turning back to glance at Thorin. “Are you sure, my Lady?”

 

“Absolutely. Let him in at once,” she said, and then, because she felt very weird about giving anyone orders, added a swift, “Please.”

 

The Elf nodded and set about unlocking the gate while Bilbo did her very best to pretend that her heart wasn’t about to break through her chest. She stared deliberately at the wall until she heard the gate swing open, and Thorin step inside.

 

_He cannot hurt you here._

 

Finally, Bilbo turned to look at him.

 

Her heart leapt into her throat at the sight of him. He was thinner than when she left, he looked tired, though that might have been attributed to the fact he must have ridden almost non stop to arrive in Rivendell so quickly. Other than that he looked the same as the day she had met him, irritatingly handsome in a rugged sort of way. She hated that the very sight of him was enough to make her whole body turn to jelly.

 

Her pulse quickened and she fought the urge to turn on her tail and flee.

 

He was gaping at her, open mouthed, like someone seeing a ghost of someone they had loved and lost, and Bilbo cursed the sudden urge she had to fling her arms around him and beg him to forgive her.

 

While she studied his face, Bilbo couldn’t quite bring herself to meet his eyes. The last time she had seen those eyes they were clouded with hatred and rage as he dangled her over the edge of the mountain. She had no desire to see that again, and so, before he could utter a word she cleared her throat and began to speak. “I imagine you have much you want to say, but this is not the place for it. Follow me, I know where we will not be disturbed.” She tried her very best to keep her voice light and unaffected, but she couldn’t quite keep the tremor from her words entirely.

 

She didn’t wait for him to respond, she just walked away, heading towards her favourite room in Rivendell. It was up to him to follow her.

 

Thorin followed after her in a trance-like state, not making a noise. That, more than anything, unnerved her. It wasn’t that Thorin had always been a talkative one, but there was difference between ‘brooding and disapproving’ silence and ‘being at a loss for words’ silence. Surely if he wanted her head he would have demanded it by now, right?

 

Bilbo led him straight to her favourite place in Rivendell, a secluded gazebo just off the path in one of the Eastern gardens. She wanted to be alone, she didn’t want anyone to hear the words he had to see, or see the way that those words made her crumble. 

 

She felt the weight of his gaze as she took a seat on one of the benches and looked up at him expectantly.

 

The stunned mullet look hadn’t quite left his face, but he seemed to have regained his ability to talk. “You’re alive.” It’s spoken barely above a whisper, but at least it was something.

 

“Does that disappoint you, Thorin?” The words slipped from her lips before she could stop them. There was no bitterness there, only a pained curiosity.

 

Thorin flinched like he had been struck. “Disappoint me, I-“ he cut himself off abruptly with a frustrated growl and Bilbo watched as his arm went to his belt and pulled out a long dagger she recognised.

 

At the sight of the steel glinting in the the dim light Bilbo’s heart clenched painfully and she quickly scrambled as far back as she possibly could on the seat. She watched with horrified eyes as he brought the dagger up, but even as her mind screamed at her to run she was frozen in place.

 

She had known he was furious with her, maybe even hated her, but she never truly thought he would come here to kill her himself!

 

Any moment he would bring the blade down and she was powerless to stop him. She could scream, call for help, but it would be too late.

 

She opened her mouth to beg and plead for her life when suddenly the angle of the blade changed, and instead of stabbing down at her, Thorin brought it up to just below his chin. His other hand grasped at his beard, braids and all, so that the dagger rested just above it.

 

“Bilbo Baggins,” he began, as Bilbo sat frozen in place, her eyes flitting between the dagger and the deadly serious expression on his face. “You have every right to hate me. I do not deserve forgiveness for the things I have done to you. I offer you my beard, as a mark of my shame for the many appalling things I have done to you. Say the word and it is yours.”

 

What?

 

Now it was Bilbo’s turn to gape at him, at his stupid sincere face. She had expected resentment, rage or at the very least cool indifference. This, this was something else entirely.

 

She had been so anxious about this meeting, but suddenly her anxiety had disappeared. In its place a new emotion reared its ugly head; anger.

 

How dare he, after everything?!

 

Bilbo stood up and with a single step closed the distance between them. “I don’t want your _beard_ , Thorin,” she said, trying her very best to keep her voice level, even as her fists clenched. “If that’s all you came for then you can leave with your precious pride in tact!”

 

Thorin frowned at her as he slowly lowered the dagger, but she couldn’t look at him without wanting to hit him, so she stared resolutely at the ground instead.

 

“Bilbo,” he said, her name soft on his voice as he reached for her. “I-“

 

Bilbo snapped.

 

In the months after she left Bilbo had gone through so many stages of grieving. She’d cried, and sobbed and sat and wallowed in her misery, but not once had she ever felt angry about it. Not once had she blamed Thorin. She’d felt guilty and useless and worthless and small. Not once had she ever even considered being furious with him, or any of the company for that matter, but in that moment, Bilbo was incensed.

 

“No! No! Don’t touch me!” she cried, pushing him away. He stumbled back, more from shock than anything else. “You don’t get to come here and do this, I will not excuse you of your guilt! I LOVED you, Thorin, I loved you so much! I was willing to give up everything I had known to be with you! The Shire, my family and friends, my HOME! You convinced me that you loved me back, that I had a place by your side after I had offered you an out!” Unbidden and unwanted, tears began to fall down her cheeks. “To save your life, all of our lives, I had to do what I did, because I didn’t want to lose you and our home! I loved you so much, and you hurt me and you tried to kill me, and then you banished me, and not ONCE did I resent you for it! I thought I deserved it!”

 

Thorin was looking at her with such agony on his face, but Bilbo was beyond caring. Everything she had bottled up for the past year was coming tumbling out, whether he liked it or not.

 

“Bilbo, that’s not-“

 

“Stop talking! Just STOP! You broke my heart, and you threw away everything I gave you as if it all meant nothing! As if I meant _NOTHING_ to you! You never searched for me, you gave up on me! And now you come here and offer me your stupid beard as if that’s supposed to absolve you from any residual guilt you might have felt so you can go back to being King of the Mountain! I don’t want your beard! I want to go back to that stupid room in Lake-town and save myself the pain of your lies!”

 

“Bilbo!” It wasn’t Thorin, but a feminine voice; Arwen. It seemed that despite their seclusion Bilbo’s yelling had managed to attract the attention of the pretty Elf maiden. The Elf in question breezed past Thorin to comfort Bilbo, wrapping her long, slender arms tightly against the Hobbit. Bilbo returned the embrace, and without another word the two stalked past him, Arwen murmuring soft words in Bilbo’s ear. As they left Arwen threw Thorin a withering glare. She didn’t have to speak a word, those piercing eyes said it all; _idiot Dwarf_!

 

Thorin watched them go until they were out of sight. Only then did his eyes flutter shut as he cursed his own stupidity.

 

It was only when he re-opened his eyes that Thorin realised he was not alone. Standing three feet away from him was Lord Elrond.

 

“I suppose you are here to try and escort me from Rivendell, then?” Thorin asked, a distinct challenge in his voice to match the dark look on his face.

 

Elrond’s expression gave nothing away, “That depends on the outcome of this conversation. I have grown quite fond of Miss Baggins in the time she has spent with us, and I do not wish for her to be put through any more pain, for she has suffered tremendously already.” He levelled his gaze at Thorin, “Do you truly love her, Thorin Oakenshield?”

 

Thorin glared at him, folding his arms defensively across his broad chest. “I love her more than anything in this world, I have never claimed otherwise.”

 

Elrond smiled softly, a smile that seemed to show the thousands of years of time that had passed him by. “I am pleased to hear it. Bilbo has no use for your pride, if you wish to win her back, you will have to be a little more creative. Hobbits, I have found, can be particularly stubborn creatures.”

 

Thorin snorted derisively, his scowl deepening; as if he needed advice from a pointy-eared Elf!

 

Elrond gave a long suffering sigh, “Though apparently they do not hold a candle to Dwarves in that respect.”

 

“Did you know that _he_  had deceived us, when you took her in?” Thorin asked with more than a little accusation in his tone.

 

Elrond’s frown deepened and he exhaled wearily. “No. I only knew that Bilbo needed time and space to heal, both of which I provided. Whatever Gandalf's motivations for lying to you, he kept them to himself.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thrive off comments and kudos :)


	4. Chapter Four

Bilbo was no stranger to sleepless nights, but it was usually the nightmares that keep her restless, not her own thoughts.

 

So she wasn’t exactly thrilled when, in the early hours of the morning, someone started persistently knocking at her door. Bilbo Baggins was not a morning person on the best of days, and this was most certainly not the best of days!

 

“Go. Away!” Bilbo grumbled, pulling one of the extra pillows from her bed and throwing it over her ears.

 

The knocking did not stop. It somehow became even more persistent and irritating. Whomever it was was being exceedingly annoying, and Bilbo wasn’t in the mood for company before breakfast at the very earliest.

 

“GO. AWAY!” she said, launching another pillow at the offending door, relishing the soft whump as the pillow hit its mark.

 

Silence, beautiful, sweet, pure, blissful-

 

The knocking resumed. Bilbo had never been a particularly violent Hobbit (unless provoked), but in that moment she did weigh up the pros and cons of murdering whomever was on the other side of her door. Surely it was justified, right?

 

Muttering curses under her breath she slid from the warmth of her covers and marched towards the door, throwing it wide open.

 

Before her stood Thorin, his royal broodiness, looking considerably worse for wear. Judging from the size of the bags under his eyes, he’d had even less sleep than Bilbo had.

 

“What do you want, your Majesty?” she asked, a murderous look upon her face. She was more than a little tempted to slam the door right in his face and flounce off back to bed, but there was something about the determined set of his face that had Bilbo feeling that even if she did, he’d just keep bothering her.

 

A glutton for punishment, it seemed.

 

Thorin looked at Bilbo, tired, angry, emotionally drained nightie wearing Bilbo and did the last thing she expected, he offered her his hand.

 

“Will you take a walk with me, Miss Baggins?” he asked, his voice low and earnest in the early morning hours.

 

He’d said those words to her what seemed a life time ago, and even now her heart skipped a beat and her cheeks turned pink at the reminder. He had kissed her for the first time at the end of that walk and left her a stammering wreck while he sauntered off back to camp, smug bastard!

 

But blushing or not, Bilbo was not a fool. He would not play games with her heart like a house cat plays with a trapped mouse.

 

“No thank you, I would like to go back to bed, and for you to return to Erebor and leave me alone,” she responded coldly, crossing her arms defiantly across her chest.

 

If she expected him to give up, she was sorely mistaken, for Thorin merely shrugged and crossed the threshold of her bedroom. “Fine, if you’d rather I do it here.”

 

“Thorin! What are you doing? Get out!” she hissed as he brushed past her and came to a stop in the middle of the room and turned back around to face her.

 

“Let me speak Bilbo, please… just… please.”

 

He was staring at her with imploring eyes, open and _honest._ She knew that if she yelled, guards would come running. She knew she could ask Elrond to have him removed from Rivendell and barred from ever entering again, but for the first time since he arrived Bilbo felt that if she said no, he would listen. Here and now, if she demanded he leave, he would. He wasn’t demanding or haughty, he was begging her.

 

It wasn’t Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King of Erebor standing before her, it was just Thorin, Thorin as she knew him before - there was humility in his eyes. So she nodded almost imperceptibly, but enough for him to see.

 

Relief broke across his face, and Thorin almost smiled before the weight of the situation settled back upon him.

 

Somewhere deep inside her that made her a little sad, Thorin always had the most beautiful smile. It was like the first sunny day after a long winter, a most welcome and warming surprise.

 

“I spent the entire night walking through Rivendell, trying to find the right words to say to you, the right gesture that would show you how I felt. How I still feel. I am not good with words, you and I both know that, but I have to try, because I cannot leave here without saying my piece.” Yet even as he spoke his eyes were fixed on Bilbo, searching for any indication she wished for him to stop.

 

She stood ramrod straight, arms folded in front of her, chewing absentmindedly on her bottom lip, but she was listening. Despite what she had said in anger, he deserved a chance to speak.

 

Thorin continued, “I am sorry Bilbo, sorry for everything. I was weak and I did awful things, things I cannot even begin to atone for. It was madness, Bilbo, madness fuelled by greed and paranoia, and I hated myself for not being strong enough to see through it.”

 

They both knew what he was referring to, and Bilbo flinched at the reminder, unable to help herself. She could still picture it in horrifyingly vivid detail, the way he yanked her over the edge, the maddening gleam in his eyes as she struggled against him and the feeling of terror that clawed its way through her as she hung hundreds of feet off the ground, knowing that if he let go she would most certainly die. She had lost count of the number of nights she had awoken screaming and crying from the nightmares. She couldn’t help the tears that welled up in her eyes, and for a moment Thorin looked as if he was going to comfort her like he had countless times in the past, but at the last second he stilled himself, and Bilbo was thankful for that at least.

 

She didn’t know what she would do if he touched her like he used to, especially not in her current state.

 

He gazed at her with such a pained expression and he hastened to clarify. “It’s no excuse, I know that, but I cannot allow you to think for one single second that I ever wanted to hurt you. I would rather rip out my own heart than ever cause you another moment of pain. I love you, and I will always love you, regardless of what happens next.”

 

He paused for a moment and took a tentative step closer towards her, silently pleased when she didn’t step away to maintain her distance. “When Gandalf told us you had died I thought I was being punished for what I had done to you, so I welcomed the pain and grief and the guilt and the agony. I lived only because my family made sure of it, but I was a living shadow without you. I am _nothing_ without you, Bilbo.”

 

Another step.

 

Bilbo watched him warily, but she didn’t say anything (even though it went against ever fibre of her being to do so) so he continued. “If I could take it back, I would in a heartbeat, and had I known you lived I would have done anything, gone anywhere to tell you that you mean more to mean than any mountain, any title and any treasure. I would give it all up for you. I had no right to banish you from Erebor when you were the one who won her back for us. I know there is nothing I can say or do to make up for what I have done to you Bilbo, I understand that now.”

 

Another step.

 

He and Bilbo were only inches apart; she could practically feel the heat radiating off of him in the cool air of the morning. Absentmindedly she remembered that Dwarves ran hotter than Hobbits (both in temperature and temperament, it seemed), but it seemed of little importance at that particular moment.

 

Thorin gazed at her, his usually piercing blue eyes surprisingly warm and even a little… hopeful? Bilbo’s stomach did a little flip flop as he cleared his throat and licked his lips before continuing, “I don’t deserve you or your forgiveness, I know that. If, after this, you want nothing to do with me, I’ll leave and you won’t ever hear from me again, I swear it, but I have to try. I am not whole without you, I cannot be. I promised you once that I would court you, a courtship intended to lead into marriage.”

 

Bilbo froze, her heart beating a mile a minute. Thorin smiled, a small, but genuine smile as he reached up to his neck and from under his shirt he pulled out a chain with a ring on the end of it.

 

“Dwarven courtships begin with a single gift,” he said, deftly undoing the chain and sliding the ring off. His eyes never left Bilbo’s face as he held the ring out before her. It was a simple little thing, a strange Dwarven pattern etched around the band, but otherwise unadorned. “A gift like this one.”

 

Bilbo was stunned. It was too early for this; she hadn’t even had breakfast yet. “Thorin, what are you doing?” she breathed, her gaze flickering from his face (serious and honest), and the ring in his hand (humble yet beautiful), and back again.

 

“I am doing what I should have done a long, long time ago. I made this ring for you, months ago, before we were captured by the Elves. I should have given it to you back then, and I didn’t, and I was a fool. I wanted to romance you with the treasures of my fore-fathers, when I had a kingdom to offer you. It was pride, and it was foolish. Thinking you were dead was agony, Bilbo. Knowing you were alive and that you believed that I despised you, that I blamed you, thinking that you had no place in Erebor - that was one thousand times worse.”

 

Her heart was pounding as she stood, rooted firmly in place, unable to speak.

 

“You saved my life, the lives of every one of our company. I owe _everything_ to you. I cannot take back what I have done, nor can I ever truly make up for my mistakes. I would offer you my life – a blood oath of servitude, if I thought it would make things right between us.” He smiled ruefully, “I am selfish enough to admit that even though I don’t deserve it, I don’t want to spend another moment of my life without you, Bilbo Baggins. I love you, _you are my_ _soul_ , and and even if you hate me, I cannot leave without begging you, on my hands and knees if I have to, to accept my courtship. I am not the Dwarf you think I am, Bilbo, give me the chance to prove it to you.”

 

Bilbo smiled for the first time that morning, softly and beautifully. “Thorin, you of all people should know I don’t hold grudges. I forgive you, I always would have.”

 

“But you do not accept my love?” he asked, his expression wavering somewhere between hope and defeated acceptance. She studied his face, and found herself pleased with what she saw, or rather, didn’t see. She didn’t see any anger there, or malice, or fear, or resentment. His stormy blue eyes held no secrets, not from her, not anymore.

Bilbo knew that he wanted more than anything for her to take the ring from him, but she couldn’t do that, even though she wanted to. Not yet. Not until she had said her piece.

 

“I’m a hobbit, Thorin,” she said, speaking each word slowly, as if to a child.

 

Thorin frowned in confusion for but a moment before understanding swept across his face. “That doesn’t matter, Bilbo. I told you before, hobbit or not, there is a place for you at my side, anyone who believes otherwise can-“

 

Bilbo cut him off with a gentle laugh, unable to help herself. “That’s not what I meant. I love you, Thorin Oakenshield, I never stopped loving you.” She leaned in and pressed her lips against his cheek for a heartbeat, her hand reaching out to cup his other cheek. Instinctively, Thorin’s arms (the ring still clenched in his fist) came to rest on her waist, pulling her closer, and she was content to let him. “The ring is beautiful but I can’t... Not yet. I need something else first.”

 

Thorin gazed at her with such fierce adoration and awe, like he couldn’t quite believe she was real, but he was so, so unbelievably glad she was. “What?” he rasped. “I’ll do anything, give you anything you ask, just tell me.”

 

“I’m a Hobbit, Thorin. I love the ring, it’s beautiful, but in the Shire we say things with flowers. They have meanings, sentiment. Nothing is said or celebrated in the Shire without them, nothing of importance anyway. Bring me some flowers, and then we will talk.” Bilbo let her arm fall away and stepped back, “But for now, I need to sleep, it’s too early for this.”

 

Thorin nodded, “Yes, of course.” He turned to leave, but paused and opened his mouth to say something else.

 

Bilbo saw this and before Thorin could even get a syllable out she threw her finger up in warning, her brown eyes narrowing. “I was not joking about the sleep thing, if you don’t leave this second I –“

 

“Thank you, Bilbo. Truly,” he said, and then, with one final hopeful look at the woman he adored, he left.

 

It was only when the door had shut behind him that Bilbo fell back onto her bed, but she didn’t roll over to go back to sleep. Instead she laid on her back, staring up at the canopy above her. Then, slowly, she allowed a brilliant smile to envelop her face.

 

They weren’t fixed yet, there was still so much to say, so much healing to do, but at that moment it didn’t matter to Bilbo.

 

He still loved her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed, you know the drill, let me know with some Kudos or comments :)


	5. Chapter Five

If there was one thing that Rivendell was not lacking, aside from irritating, pointy earned Elves, it was flowers.

 

Theoretically, he had more than enough choices to give Bilbo the biggest, most beautiful arrangement of flowers that she had ever seen. But that wasn’t the point. Months ago on the road to Erebor, in one of his childish fits of jealousy, he’d made Bilbo ride up front with him to separate her from the others. Determined to not allow his bad mood affect her, Bilbo had done what she often did in those circumstances, which was talk about things that made her happy. In that particular conversation, Bilbo discussed flowers, particularly those in the Shire, those of her childhood.

 

_‘They’re pretty, yes, but it’s more than that,” she’d said._

_“They’re plants, what more can there possibly be?” Thorin had snorted derisively._

_“It might be difficult for someone who spend their entire lives underground to understand, but flowers are like a language. If I gave you a pink carnation, it means that I will never forget you, but a yellow carnation signifies that I don’t return your feelings, and that I disdain you.”_

 

He should have listened more to the actual words she was saying, and not just to the soft, wistful tone of her voice as she spoke.

 

Flowers meant something to Bilbo, and he had to pick the right ones. The problem was that he didn’t know a daisy from a daffodil, much less what bloody meaning they were supposed to convey.

 

Briefly he contemplated simply choosing the most beautiful ones and giving her those, but knowing his luck he would probably send some horrifically mixed message to her, and he was well aware how thin the ice on which he was standing was.

 

Besides, it was the only thing Bilbo had asked of him, and he wasn’t going to mess it up.

 

“What’s this? A Dwarven king wandering through Elvish flower gardens. Are you lost?” a lilting Elvish voice asked, drawing him unpleasantly back to the present. Thorin’s eyes screwed up as he cursed his bad luck. After a moment, and with a tight smile, he whirled around to face Lord Elrond’s only daughter, Lady Arwen.

 

“Not lost, merely contemplating,” he huffed.

 

Arwen’s delicate eyebrow quirked, “Oh? I didn’t think Dwarves cared much for nature. Hobbits, on the other hand…” she trailed off with a knowing smirk.

 

Thorin sighed, “I don’t suppose you know much about flowers, or wooing hobbits for that matter?”

 

And then Arwen smiled, and it threw Thorin a little off balance. “Those flowers there,” Arwen nodded towards a patch of little delicate purple flowers that Thorin’s hand had been reaching for, “Are the wrong choice, unless you wish to tell Bilbo that you have forsaken her entirely?”

 

Thorin frowned. The last time he had seen her, Arwen had looked at him like he was the worst piece of scum in the world. Considering that he had made Bilbo cry he understood her point of view, but he certainly wasn’t expecting this sudden change in her behaviour.

 

“I don’t mean to seem ungrateful, Lady Arwen, but why are you helping me?”

 

The Elf appraised him thoughtfully, “Do you know why Gandalf led you to believe Bilbo had died?” she asked him instead.

 

His blue eyes turned colder than the sea in Winter, “I imagine that he thought he was protecting her.”

 

Arwen didn’t falter at his icy glare, not even a little bit. In her beautiful, soft voice, she continued. “I sent a letter to him asking as much, when his deception came to light. He said that he saw you fall for her, and watched as she fell too. Some Dwarves are blessed, Thorin, and you were blessed with Bilbo. There could never be another soul you loved as much as you loved hers.” Her gaze, still and calm, somehow rooted Thorin to the spot. He felt the weight of her words settle upon him.

 

Arwen knew. He wasn’t even sure if Bilbo knew the full extent of their bond, but somehow, Arwen knew.

 

“And yet, even a love that powerful wasn’t able to stop you from trying to murder her. When you failed in killing her, you banished her, and it broke Bilbo’s heart in two. I don’t claim to understand Dwarven soul-bonds, but I understand that it is old and powerful magic. The curse that ate at your mind and poisoned your thoughts didn’t care that you loved her, it wanted her dead because she stood in the way of you and your treasure. Gandalf loves Bilbo, not as you do, but he cares for her as if she were family. Even after you fought back and recovered, he believed that he could not risk Bilbo’s life, her safety, or her heart against a threat like that.”

 

Unwittingly Thorin’s hands curled into fists, clenched tightly by his sides. He wasn’t a fool, he could guess at the Wizard’s reasons for his treachery, but to know the whole truth of it hurt more than he cared to admit. He was haunted enough by what he had done without being reminded constantly by others.

 

Damn him! Damn Gandalf right back to wherever he had come from before meddling in their lives!

 

“It wasn’t his choice to make,” he growled out, his handsome face contorted into a bitter snarl.

 

“No, it wasn’t,” Arwen agreed, causing Thorin to look sharply up at her in surprise. “I can understand that he thought he was protecting Bilbo, but in thinking that she had been abandoned by those she loved, suffering pain and heartbreak alone because those who cared thought she was dead, she was miserable. In trying to protect her, Gandalf robbed her of the chance to be happy.”

 

Thorin must have been gaping at her like a stunned mullet, for a sudden glimmer of amusement crossed her sky blue eyes, if only for a moment. Gently she reached her hand out and placed it on his shoulder in an almost mothering way. He found it strange that he didn’t shake it off, stranger still that the anger inside him slowly leeched out from him.

 

“Bilbo has suffered enough, you both have. I do not expect you have an easy road ahead of you, Thorin. You have much to atone for, and she will need time to forgive both you and herself. You also have to forgive yourself. But have faith, she loves you more and more with each passing day. Now come, let me show you some flowers that Bilbo will adore.”

 

For the rest of the morning Arwen led Thorin through the gardens and forests of Rivendell, picking flowers in relative silence, though occasionally Arwen would pass a comment on the plants, or Thorin’s choices, which for the most part she seemed pleased with. He had to admit, her presence was somewhat calming, he could see how Bilbo had become such fast friends with the Elf, she was kind.

 

Kindness was not something Thorin was used to from strangers, much less Elves. He expected her to hate him, especially after the disaster she’d witnessed the night before and yet she never spoke a bad word, never threatened him nor cursed him.

 

Instead she smiled lightly, “Good luck, Thorin Oakenshield.”

 

And before he knew it he was standing outside Bilbo’s room much like he was earlier that morning, only this time he was holding a bouquet of flowers.

 

This time, when he knocked, she opened the door with an almost nervous smile, accepting the flowers the moment Thorin offered them to her.

 

“They’re beautiful, Thorin, thank you.”

 

 _Gladoli, Iris, Hyacinth; blue purple and white, and the pink and red roses_.

 

He remembered each one specifically by name, he’d burned their meanings into his mind, just in case she asked. He felt nervous as he watched her appraise them, more nervous than he’d felt that morning, more nervous than he had felt in his entire life.

 

All over some flowers, perhaps the most important flowers in all his life.

 

Bilbo was beautiful, far more beautiful than the collection of plants he’d just given her. The light sprinkle of freckles across her nose, the way she smiled when she thought he wasn’t watching, the mischievous glimmer that never quite seemed to leave her lovely brown eyes… she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. He loved her wild, curly hair, her laugh, the way she blushed so wonderfully when he caught her off guard.

 

No gift, no matter how pretty, could ever come close to showing her how much he loved every fibre of her being.

 

It had been a mistake, coming here imagining that even if Bilbo didn’t come back to Erebor with him, he could regain some semblance of peace and happiness.

 

He would be empty without her. Empty, alone and miserable, always waiting for her, yearning for her, restless without her.

 

Before she had joined their company, nothing had meant more to Thorin than the throne of Erebor. As he gazed at the love of his life he knew that he would give it all up, the crown, the throne, the riches, all of it, just to be with her.

 

She had been staring at the flowers for two long now, and Thorin couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Do you love me, Bilbo?”

 

Bilbo’s eyes shifted from the flowers in her hand to his face, her expression torn. “Yes… more than anything, but-“

 

“Then come home with me, please. I am begging you, please… just give me a chance.”

 

Bilbo bit her lip, her brow furrowing. “Thorin, there’s something you need to know. Please, take a seat,” she said, gesturing to one of the armchairs that decorated her solar.

 

Thorin found himself frowning at the expression on Bilbo’s face, there was an uncharacteristic despondency in her eyes that made concern bubble up inside of him. He didn’t like that look one bit, he wanted it gone, obliterated, never to mar her face again. It unnerved him more than he cared to admit. Yet, against his better judgement, he kept his thoughts to himself and did as he was bid, waiting patiently for her to start.

 

Bilbo shot him a quick smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you for the flowers, they’re perfect, I love them... really I do.” She laid said flowers down gently upon the table, her fingers brushing ever so gently against the delicate blooms, almost reverently, before she turned her attention back to Thorin, who gulped and forced a smile of his own in response. She was saying good things, but with every word Thorin’s sense of foreboding grew worse, because Bilbo looked as if she were about to cry.

 

“Before you go any further, I have to tell you something. You have to understand, I never intended to hide this from you, not intentionally at least. If, after I have said what needs to be said, if you wish to leave here without me, or you never want to see or speak to me again, I understand, and I won’t hold it against you.”

 

She was pacing in front of him, her hands wringing the fabric of her skirts into knots, though he doubted she was aware that she was doing it.

 

He opened his mouth to tell her that there was nothing she could ever do to make that happened, but she shot him a look and he fell silent and waited for her to say her piece. He watched as she paced, deliberately refusing to meet his concerned gaze as she tried to find the right words.

 

“When I left Erebor, after the battle… I was pregnant, with your child. Our child.”

 

His heart felt like someone had ripped it from his chest. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t been warned about, Nori had suspected as much, but to hear it from Bilbo, to see the pain it had caused her… that was agony.

 

A single tear fell down Bilbo’s cheek, and she took a deep shuddering breath before continuing.

 

“It was early stages, but she was strong, Thorin. It was all my fault; in the aftermath of the battle I was a wreck. We had a rough journey from the lonely mountain, and I was already injured.  I was in so much pain, and everything was so difficult, even simple things like feeding myself. I tried, I really tried, but I couldn’t… I killed our child, Thorin. Gandalf tried to get me to Elrond in time but even he couldn’t save her, I very nearly died as well. I wasn’t strong enough and she died before she ever had a chance to live. I’m so sorry.”

 

Bilbo’s arms were now wrapped around her own waist, and she looked like she was barely holding herself together. He knew how hard she was fighting to keep the tears at bay, and not for the first time he felt like the lowest creature on the earth. How could she think that?

 

“She?” he asked, unable to help himself.

 

Bilbo stared fiercely at the ground between them, “Elrond told me, when I woke. We were going to have a little girl.”

 

The last of her strength faltered, and before she could stop herself the tears started to pour down her face.

 

Thorin was out of his seat in a heartbeat, and before Bilbo could stop him he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against him, his hands rubbing soothing circles.

 

“It was not your fault, _Givashel_ , I would never hold that against you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss against her head. “I love you, nothing will ever change that. It wasn’t your fault; you did nothing wrong.” He kept repeating the words, peppering her with kisses until her shaking subsided and her tears dried. He tried not to think of the months of pain she had endured, blaming herself, grieving alone.

 

It wasn’t her fault she lost their child. The very idea that she blamed herself was ludicrous. Dwarven pregnancies were notoriously difficult at the best of times, not to mention the difficulties of a hobbit carrying a dwarven babe, especially one who was already injured, travelling a rough road after being betrayed by her family.

 

No, Thorin would never blame Bilbo for losing their child, not when he could lay the blame so squarely at his own feet.

 

He never even noticed the tears that fell from his own eyes as he comforted Bilbo, taking as much solace in having her in his arms as he could.

 

He could have spent hours like that, Bilbo tucked protectively against his chest, but eventually he felt her pulling away, and somewhat reluctantly, he let his arms fall away from her waist.

 

“I understand if you can’t, I mean… if you didn’t want-“ she began, but Thorin cut her off with a harrumph.

 

He took her hands in his, his dark eyes burning with intensity as he gazed down at her.

 

“ _You_ are what I want, now and for the rest of my life. You are all I will _ever_ want, Bilbo Baggins.”

 

xxx

 

The next morning they departed Rivendell, Thorin leading the way with Bilbo following not far behind. On her finger, she wore a ring, crafted from iron, carved and delicate, a gift and a promise in one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One(?) more chapter to go guys, thanks for sticking it out with me, let me know if you enjoyed the journey so far!


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the big Finale. Thanks for sticking with me guys, I hope you all enjoyed it! Please leave some kudos and comments if you did!

“Bilbo, are you alright?” Thorin asked blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he pushed himself up into a seated position on their bed.

 

It was well past midnight in Dale and Bilbo should have been sleeping, but instead she was sitting against the headboard of the bed, staring out the window at the moonlit sky and the mountain that lay before them.

 

Erebor. Tomorrow they would be home.

 

“I’m fine, Thorin, truly. Go back to sleep,” she murmured, turning her head ever so slightly to give him a small smile to reassure him.

 

Thorin frowned. He may not have been the most observant Dwarf, but one would have to blind, deaf and dumb to have missed Bilbo’s growing anxiety as they drew closer to the mountain.

 

“You’re lying to me,” he said, shuffling over so that he could press a kiss against her cheek. “I know you better than that, _Amrâlimê_.”

 

Bilbo sighed, leaning back into Thorin’s bare chest, smiling softly when he wrapped his arms gently around her. “It’s nothing, truly.”

 

“If it were nothing, it would not keep you from your sleep. What troubles you?” he asked, rubbing soft circles into her skin to soothe her.

 

“Erebor,” she breathed after a long silence. “The last time we were here, facing the mountain, there was an actual Dragon standing in our way, and yet I find I’m more uneasy now than I was then.” She turned to meet his gaze, and Thorin found himself surprised at the raw, open, vulnerability on her face. “It’s not the mountain itself that worries me.”

 

His thick eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

 

“I thought that coming back here would be difficult, that seeing Erebor would bring back all these bad thoughts and nightmares that have plagued me since I left.”

 

“There is no shame in that,” he started to say, but Bilbo cut him off with a look.

 

“I know that… but it’s not the thought of nightmares that scares me about returning to Erebor. It’s everything else… every _one_ else.”

 

There was silence for a heartbeat. “By which you mean…?” he probed.

 

“Your sister, your people… the company. I feel like I’m walking into a waiting trap. What if they hate me, Thorin? What if they blame me?”

 

She felt him tense behind her and barely stopped herself from wincing. “What could they possibly blame you for?” he asked in a soft growl.

 

Bilbo snorted, “You know exactly what for! To most of them I’m a stranger, a half mad _Halfling_ that’s ensnared their king and brought ruin and shame to Erebor and Dwarves as a whole. At best I’m an interloper, at worst I’m-“

 

“You are the very reason Erebor is standing, and anyone who thinks otherwise will answer to me!” he snarled, his arms once more curling protectively across her chest. He sighed deeply before continuing in a softer tone. “You saved my life, as well as Fili and Kili’s. For that reason alone, Dis already adores you. You really are half mad if you think our company is not chomping at the bit for your return. They could never hate you, Bilbo.”

 

“And your people?”

 

Thorin considered her for a moment before answering. “You’re a hero, Bilbo, and I don’t say that lightly. You will be welcomed at Erebor, I promise you.” He kissed her temple… then her cheek… then her lips, and sleep did not come for either of them for quite some time.

 

xxx

 

Bilbo was practically vibrating with anxiety on the ride to Erebor, but Thorin’s presence behind her, his arms either side of her, grasping the reins of the horse, well, it certainly helped.

 

The entire journey with him, in the back of her mind she’d been thinking about this moment, the moment she set foot back inside Erebor. Would her friends be pleased to see her? At the very least she knew she had Kili and Nori’s support, but what of Ori? What of Gloin or Bifur? Or Dwalin, for that matter. The ones who took the longest to warm to her on the first trip, how would they receive her now?

 

Of course, worrying would do her no good. At least, that’s what she told herself on the journey up to Erebor.

 

Seeing the great stone entrance as they rode in, she felt a great number of emotions swirling inside of her. Hope, fear, longing, happiness, sadness, apprehension, and too many more to name.

 

She could see faintly that a welcoming party had gathered at the gates, but it was too far for her eyes to distinguish which Dwarves were present. She hoped beyond hope that Kili was there, she needed at least one friendly face.

 

Her stomach tied itself in knots.

 

“Thorin, can we stop for a moment, please?” she whispered, and an instant later their pony pulled to a stop.

 

“Yes?” he rumbled, his voice calm and even. Reliable. Relaxing.

 

_Breathe, Bilbo._

 

“Promise me something. Promise me that no matter what happens once we reach Erebor, you won’t ask me to leave. I couldn’t- I-I can’t…“ she trailed off uncomfortably, cursing her own vulnerability.

 

“I have spent enough time without you by my side, Bilbo. I do not intend to spend anymore. I promise you.” She felt his lips press a kiss against the back of her head, and she relaxed into him.

 

“I love you.”

 

She couldn’t see it, but she was absolutely sure that Thorin was smiling behind her as he urged the pony on with a gentle kick of his heels. “And I love you, now stop fretting. We are almost home.”

 

Home. She almost smiled. She wasn’t sure what awaited her at the gates of Erebor, but in a way Thorin was right. It wasn’t quite home. She’d barely spent any time in the Lonely Mountain itself, and she didn’t have happy memories of it to say the least. But it was a beautiful place, and if Thorin loved her, and her friends welcomed her back, then maybe it could be her home.

 

As they drew closer, Bilbo recognized the party waiting for them. How could she not? Twelve Dwarves and a lone Elf. Her heart sped up as the butterflies in her stomach fluttered anxiously. She spied Fili, Kili and Tauriel all smiling widely at her, Ori practically bouncing with joy, flanked as ever by both Nori and Dori. She spied Bofur, wearing that same, ridiculous, wonderful hat of his. Behind him Oin and Gloin, standing tall and proud. Bifur, at the edge of the crowd, hidden somewhat behind Bombur’s large frame. At the front stood Balin and Dwalin. Balin’s face was kind, as it always had been, but Dwalin… Dwalin was unreadable.

 

The last few steps up the pathway seemed to take forever, but eventually they reached the great stone gates and both Thorin and Bilbo dismounted.

 

Dwalin stepped briskly forward, clasping Thorin’s hand in his before bringing him King into a crushing hug, thumping him on the back. “Welcome home, Thorin.” After a moment they broke and Dwalin turned his shrewd gaze to Bilbo.

 

Her heart leapt into her throat as he appraised her. “I see you brought back a burglar,” he said, and the sense of dread Bilbo had been fighting off all morning rose up within her. This was a mistake, a front, they hated her- “We missed you, lass.” And he swept her up in his arms tightly, yet surprisingly gentle. Bilbo relaxed into the embrace, breathing a deep sigh of relief.

 

“I missed you too.”

 

If Dwalin’s eyes looked suspiciously shiny as he pulled away, neither Bilbo nor Thorin saw fit to comment on it.

 

Of course, the very moment that Dwalin stepped away Bilbo was swept off her feet by Fili, who swung her round in happiness, laughing as he went. Before she knew it she was being swarmed by Dwarves, eager to welcome her home.

 

From Oin’s bellowed greeting to Balin’s teary embrace, she was surprised by the fierceness of their reunion. As Bifur danced a jig with her, twirling her into Dori’s waiting arms she felt so unbearably happy. She loved Thorin deeply, more than she had ever loved anyone, or ever could. But these Dwarves… they were her family.

 

She had missed her family so desperately.

 

It wasn’t until dear, sweet Ori offered her a white handkerchief that she realised that she was, in fact, crying.

 

“Happy tears,” she assured them.

 

Fili and Kili came up either side of her and slung their arms over her shoulder, sandwiching them between her. “Come along, Bilbo. Our mother is simply dying to meet you!”  


“And of course we’ll need to start planning the celebrations,” Fili added with a charming smirk.

 

“Celebrations?” She bewilderedly asked as they started to escort her into the halls of Erebor.

 

“For your return, of course. And Thorin’s too, I guess... But mostly yours.”

 

And off they went, the rest of the Dwarves trailing after them, Thorin, Balin and Dwalin last of all.

 

Thorin watched her, as he often did, and a slow smile crept across his face. It had been difficult enough to persuade her to leave Rivendell and the home she made there. Seeing her here, now, surrounded by those who loved her best, happy… it was indescribable.

 

She was so beautiful when she smiled, when she laughed.

 

She was home, his heart was finally _home_.

 

“She’s a welcome sight, to be sure,” Balin rumbled as they walked through the gates.

 

“Aye,” Thorin agreed, a soft, gentle and happy look in his eyes.

 

Dwalin subtly grabbed Thorin’s arm, slowing him down. “Wait, there’s something you should know,” he said, a dark look in his eyes.

 

Thorin stopped walking and before he could help himself his gaze turned anxiously to Bilbo.

 

She was talking animatedly with Dori and Bombur, smiling broadly from ear to ear, totally oblivious to all else.

 

“She’s content, we don’t wish to trouble her with this,” Balin murmured.

 

Still, Thorin was hesitant to leave her. They’d spent enough time apart as it was, and while he wasn’t proud to admit it, he was a little jealous of all the affection Bilbo was bestowing upon the Dwarves of their company.

 

Dwalin clapped his hand on his King’s shoulder, “We had a visitor arrive yesterday afternoon. A Wizard.”

 

Thorin’s expression darkened, and without another word he allowed himself to be led away by the brothers.

 

“Why is he here?” Thorin hissed as they walked swiftly through the corridors.

 

“To see you, and, I expect, Bilbo,” Balin said, shaking his head.

 

“How did he know we were here? I don’t believe it to be mere coincidence he arrives the very night before we do.”

 

Dwalin huffed in displeasure. “I believe that someone notified him of your return.”

 

On their journey they’d kept to themselves as often as possible, with three exceptions. They’d spent time with Beorn at Bilbo’s behest. They could not avoid Mirkwood either, and Thorin had been forced to spend an evening with the Elvish prick enduring glares, barely concealed insults and not a piece of meat in sight. It had taken every bit of restraint he had not to throw himself across the table and throttle him.

 

Of course they had also stopped at Dale the very night before. Again, Bilbo had wanted to see Bard and his family, and he of course was unable to deny her anything.

 

While Bard had made no secret of his dislike of Thorin, or his protectiveness over Bilbo, it seemed unlikely that it had been he who warned Gandalf.

 

Thorin doubted Beorn would involve himself in their affairs, which left the pointy eared, traitorous bastard Thranduil.

 

He wondered whether it was his desire to see Thorin miserable, the strange affinity he seemed to hold for Bilbo, or some combination of the two.

 

It mattered not, in the end. Gandalf was here, one way or the other.

 

Thorin was going to ensure he never, ever returned.

 

They had not taken him to the dungeons, though the thought had crossed their minds. Instead, Gandalf had been ushered into one of the private rooms for visiting Dwarven Lords.

 

Dwalin had argued for locking the Wizard in there for good measure, but Nori had pointed out that, as a Wizard, there wasn’t much point putting a lock on the door as he could likely undo it with a mere thought.

 

Lock or no lock, it appeared that Gandalf had stayed put.

 

When Thorin burst through the door, a fearsome snarl on his face, Gandalf was sitting patiently on the single armchair in the room.

 

“Good morning, Thorin Oakenshield.”

 

Rage crossed his face like a dark, roiling storm cloud. “Good morning? Good morning?! How dare you come here, you foul, treacherous old FOOL!”

 

Gandalf frowned as he rose gracefully from his seat, towering over the three gathered Dwarves. “I have not come here to argue, Thorin, nor to be insulted,” he said calmly.

 

Dwalin harrumphed and Thorin scoffed. “I don’t care why you’re here, Wizard,” he spat. “You are not welcome here in Erebor, and if you wish to keep your life, I _suggest_ you leave immediately and do not return to darken our doorstep.”

 

There was sadness, clear as day, in the Gandalf’s blue eyes as he gazed down at Thorin. “I came to ask for forgiveness. I was wrong, Thorin. I thought I was protecting her… I’m sorry.”

 

If Gandalf had expected his words to diffuse the situation, he was sorely mistaken, because if anything, Gandalf’s admission had only made Thorin appear more incensed.

 

Sensing the immediate danger both Balin and Dwalin instinctively grabbed Thorin by his shoulders, ready to hold him back if need be. Though, whether the danger was to Gandalf or Thorin, neither really knew.

 

Oh, how Thorin wished he still had his axe with him. He remembered passing it off to a strangely insistent Dori at the gates. It seemed his brethren had anticipated this outcome. The bastards!

 

“You let us believe she was DEAD! We mourned for her!”

 

Gandalf bowed his head, “I thought it was the best way to protect Bilbo. You were not in your right mind, I had to keep her safe, those were the terms of our contract.”

 

Thorin felt his anger grow with every word that left that foul creatures mouth, and he roared in fury.

 

“Safe? SAFE?! She almost died, she LOST OUR CHILD because of your meddling!”

 

Gandalf had the decency to look ashamed, or at least as close to that as a Wizard could come.

 

xxx

 

Bilbo could barely keep the grin from her face. Far from being shunned, the company had welcomed her back whole heartedly.

 

They had ushered her through the great hallway, pulling her attention in a million different ways. She would be immersed in the tale of Bofur’s accident in the kitchen attempting to woo a Dwarven lass and Gloin would interrupt to talk about Gimli’s first axe, only to be interrupted again by Ori talking about the Library he’d started to restore, promising her he would show her the ‘Bilbo section’.

 

“Bah, wait until she sees the garden!” Dori had cut in, leaving Bilbo a touch confused. She could scarcely imagine where one would even begin to grow anything under a mountain, but wisely she kept the thought to herself and smiled at him all the same.

 

She thought her heart might burst from happiness.

 

Instinctively she wanted to share her joy with Thorin, but when she turned expecting to find him smirking from somewhere behind her, smug in the knowledge he’d been right, he wasn’t there.

 

Nor, for that matter, was Balin or Dwalin.

 

She stopped dead in her tracks, frowning. She wasn’t a fool. Thorin wouldn’t have left her so soon without telling her, and that he had taken his two most trusted advisors meant that something had happened.

 

The Dwarves noticed that she wasn’t walking alongside them and the merriment stopped, each of them looking guiltier than the last. That, if nothing else, confirmed her suspicions.

 

“Oh Fili?” she said, her voice light but eyes deadly.

 

The answering grin was larger and tighter than it had any right to be. “Yes, Bilbo?”

 

“What is your Uncle hiding from me?”

 

xxx

 

“DON’T YOU DARE DENY IT-“

 

“Thorin, please-“

 

“I SHOULD HAVE YOU EXECUTED, STRUNG FROM THE BATTLEMENTS FOR THE CROWS TO PICK AT!”

 

“Thorin, calm yourself! I protected her, nothing more!”

 

“NOTHING MORE?! SHE WAS ALONE!” Thorin took a deep breath to stop himself from attempting to throttle Gandalf. Slightly calmer, he continued, his voice cold and hateful. “You left her half dead, miserable, mourning the loss of her child, alone and unloved, thinking those who loved her most despised the very air she breathed. Tell me, Gandalf, how was that protecting her?”

 

“She would heal, move on with her life, as she should. She’s a Hobbit, Thorin. She didn’t belong in the heart of the mountain.”

 

“That wasn’t your decision to make, my friend.” Gandalf, Thorin, Balin and Dwalin all startled at the sound of Bilbo’s voice by the doorway. Clearly they hadn’t been aware of her presence for the last few minutes. A part of her was secretly pleased she could still sneak up on them when she wanted to.

 

“Bilbo!” cried Thorin, his face aghast.

 

“Oh, shit!” Dwalin muttered, sharing a guilty look with his brother who was studiously avoiding her gaze.

 

But Bilbo’s eyes remained on Gandalf, even as Thorin rushed to her side, embracing her.

 

“Do not worry about him, he will be gone soon, never to darken our doorsteps again on pain of death,” he growled, glaring fiercely at Gandalf.

 

Bilbo ignored him. “It wasn’t your place to decide what was right for me. You had no right to lie to me, or Thorin for that matter.”

 

Gandalf’s eyes filled with tears, his face more sorrowful than Bilbo had ever seen before, more than she even thought possible. “I meant no harm. Truly, I only wanted your happiness and safety.”

 

Bilbo stared at him, and after a moment she pulled herself away from Thorin and walked over to meet him. Gently she reached out and offered him her hand. He took it gratefully, his big, blue eyes gazing intently into hers. Bilbo was tiny next to him, and yet for perhaps the first time, she was speaking to him as an equal, wise beyond her years.

 

“I know. I doubt I would have survived after the battle without you. I owe you my life.” Thorin scoffed in the background and Bilbo pointedly ignored him, smiling sadly up at the grizzled Wizard before her. “I believe you truly thought what you were doing was the right thing by me, but you caused so much pain. My own, Thorin’s, every other member of our company. How could I heal when my wound was re-opened every day? How could I go back to my life in the Shire when _you_ had shown me one far more wonderful? You had no right to keep me in the dark, whatever your reasons. I don’t hate you for it, but I need time.”

 

Gandalf nodded wearily. “I truly am sorry, Bilbo, I never wanted to hurt you.”

 

Bilbo let his hand fall, taking a step back to meet Thorin. “I know, but you had to know I would never be the same… Please, go. There is nothing left to say.”

 

He looked at her, then at Thorin, before returning to Bilbo. He nodded once more and without another word he swept out of the room. Balin and Dwalin followed, presumably to make sure he left Erebor immediately.

 

The moment he was out of sight Bilbo collapsed back into Thorin, who wrapped her in his arms in a comforting embrace.

 

“Did you know he was here?” she asked

 

She felt his lips against her temple. “Not until we arrived. I would have spared you that.”

 

Bilbo sighed, feeling rather weary herself. “I know. But I needed to see him, to say what needed to be said.”

 

He hummed in agreement, spinning Bilbo around to face him. “You will make an excellent Queen. Kind and fair, even to those who do not deserve it.” His tone made it clear that he felt Gandalf fell into that category.

 

Bilbo couldn’t quite keep the smile from her face and reached up to cup his cheeks in her hand so that she could lean up and press a kiss against his lips. “I love you, Thorin Oakenshield.”

 

Thorin grinned, a sight that still managed to make Bilbo want to melt into a puddle. He copied her movements, cupping her face and brining his lips down on hers. Where her kiss had been chaste and sweet, Thorin lingered, kissing her deeply, thoroughly. It was the kind of kiss that left you seeing stars and feeling fireworks. When he finally broke for air he pressed his forehead against hers. “As I love you, Bilbo Baggins.”

 

xxx

 

_Several months later…_

 

Arwen skipped across the gardens of Rivendell to where she knew her father would be, sitting under his favourite tree, reading.

 

Which of course was where she found him. “Papa, I bring news,” she sung, a wide, beautiful smile upon her face.

 

Elrond’s gaze lifted from the pages of his book to take in the sight of his delighted daughter, practically humming with excitement. “Yes?”

 

She thrust an envelope under his nose. With a fond smile he took it. He recognised Bilbo’s handwriting at once, but that wasn’t what caught his attention. For inside, attached to the letter was an invitation. Elrond felt a smile of his own growing across his face despite his best efforts.

 

It seemed Erebor was to host a Royal Wedding.

 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, hope you are enjoying this, if you are lemme know with a comment or some kudos :)


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